


If a Tree Falls in a Forest

by piades



Series: Robin and the Owls [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Grayson (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Barbara Gordon is Oracle, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Cassandra Cain is Black Bat, Dick Grayson is Agent 37, Gen, Stephanie Brown is Robin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-18 01:19:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16107791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piades/pseuds/piades
Summary: Batman may have just spent the last three months trapped as Bruce, living with no memory of his role as Gotham’s protector. Which coincidentally means that he forgot his son’s undercover mission. The son that everyone else thinks is dead. The son that has no other backup on the outside.But it’s fine. Batman has got this.Honestly, he does.





	If a Tree Falls in a Forest

**Author's Note:**

> Enormous thanks to Airdanteine, Anonymous Lawyer and Guardian Lioness who read over this and provided suggestions.
> 
> Some of these words are Anons and GLs. Thanks so much guys.
> 
> This story is part of a larger verse that has lived in my head for months and months and I'm so excited to tell you a story from it.
> 
> If you like Gen and want to chat with me about gen, feel free to head over to my super (hero) gen discord! https://discord.gg/aj95ahg

All the redundancies in the world couldn’t help Bruce if he wasn’t of sound mind to employ them.

His thoughts were like a filing cabinet whose contents had been strewn over his office carpet and he was trying to put it back in order. Despite the pillow beneath his head, it felt like someone was hitting his forehead.

Someone was speaking.

“Dick?” Bruce mumbled.

“Um,” said a female voice with a tremble of emotion. Bruce forced his eyes open. Next to him sat Stephanie Brown. The young woman was dressed in red, green and yellow, Robin colours, with a decorative skirt. Her eyes were full of sorrow.

She was wearing a modified Robin uniform, if Bruce had ever seen one. Outrage ran through him, and a memory of just  _ why _ he was angry burst to the front of his mind. Bruce tried to get to his elbows as his last memory of her flashed before his eyes:

_ Stephanie Brown on the ground in an unarmoured costume, with that ridiculous purple cape, trying to get to her feet after falling off a building. A nearby rubbish bin stunk with decaying takeaway. Tears of pain glittered in Stephanie’s eyes like the slime that leaked from the bin. Tim Drake in Robin uniform helped her up, and glared at Batman, defensively. “Take her home,” Bruce growled. “She shouldn’t be involved in this.” _

It’s on the tip of his tongue to ask Stephanie what the hell she thinks she’s doing, here, in that uniform, when more words trip out of her mouth.

“He’s… dead? Don’t you remember?”

Bruce shifts through memories. Ah, she was speaking about Dick’s death, the one they had faked before Dick went undercover to investigate the organization Spyral. There had been a funeral and everything. 

After a second of no response, Stephanie looked like she was about to get someone, so Bruce nodded. “Yes. He’s dead.”

The words settled hard in his gut, like they were true, which was ridiculous, he knew the truth.

Or did he.

How many months had passed since anyone had heard from Dick?

“How long have I been compromised?”

“Three months,” answered Cassandra, from the other side of his cot. He was surprised by her presence -- he hadn’t noticed her, and his daughter’s stealth pleased him. “I like it, you remembering.”

“Gotham’s alright though. We totally rocked!” Stephanie rushed to assure him. Her presence did  _ not _ assure him of anything. He’d prefer Dick here, or even Tim. But Dick was undercover (he  _ had _ to be fine) and Tim was out of the game.

He got up. He’d wasted enough time over the last three months. His memories were coming together now -- he’d spent  _ three whole months _ not remembering he was Batman. He’d forgotten all about his mission, and Nightwing. But that had changed.

“No! What’re you doing?” Steph squeaked. “Hey, you can’t get out of bed yet!”

“I am quite alright, Stephanie.”

“She’s worried,” said Cassandra softly in a tone that almost made him pause. She was worried about him. Their worry could cope.

“I will return,” he reassured the women. “However, there is a matter that requires my urgent attention.”

He left them and the constantly monitored Cave for a private place to contact Dick. He called. There was no response. That wasn’t surprising, he was probably in an unsafe location. He’d have to wait until the next scheduled check-in.

Three months of no contact was long enough to wear on Dick’s persistence, however. He may have already decided Bruce had abandoned him. He’d have to check their drop.

* * *

There was only one message in the drop, dated two and a half months ago. It stated everything was going well, and that Dick had found an ally in Huntress. Two and a half months of no contact, then.

It sent a chill up Bruce’s spine.

* * *

It wasn’t too unusual to miss a check in, Bruce told himself when Dick didn’t contact him later in the week. He waited. He caught up with Cassandra. He tolerated Stephanie. He checked in on Tim. He re-familiarized himself with Gotham.

He tracked the organization he'd sent Dick to investigate as best he could on his own and endured Oracle’s scrutiny and curiosity. He sequestered himself away from the monitoring systems of the Cave and those of Oracle and waited for contact from Dick the next week. The shadows shortened as morning wore on without Dick’s voice.

It was time to contact Huntress.

* * *

Huntress had been born into death’s business — its purchasing, its selling, and that was unforgivable. Bruce was willing to tolerate her presence, but he was too wise to trust her.

Tracking her down was only possible because of the information that Dick had left at the drop — and even then it was only be possible if she let herself be found. Spyral’s technology ensured that she was otherwise unfindable. 

While Bruce waited in a cafe a woman slid into the seat across from him.

She was impossible to recognise through the technology that obscured her identity, but she was definitely Helena Bertinelli. Huntress.

“Turn that thing off,” he hissed.

The unfamiliar woman settled down in her chair, smiled, and then became Helena Bertinelli. She studied him for a long moment. Bruce let her see his need to find Dick.

She knew it was there.

Her eyes dropped to the tabletop. “I’m getting a coffee. Can I get you something?”

Before he could answer, she slipped out of the seat and strode to the counter. She knew the ball was in her court, then, and wasn’t afraid to let him know. Or perhaps he unnerved her.

There was no reason to think she had anything against Dick, but there was no reason to think she’d hadn’t killed him. Helena gave her order and returned with a table number on a pole, which she placed on the table before her. She rolled its stem between her fingers.

“He’s been missing sixty-five days,” she opened with, “I thought Spyral disposed of him at first —but it doesn’t make sense. They wanted to know who he was talking to— it wasn’t just you.”

“They knew we were in contact?” Bruce was surprised.

Helena laughed. “Of course. It wasn’t a good ruse. I don’t think anyone cared, though.”

“And how they knew who he was speaking to?”

Helena shrugged. “I have no idea. And he didn’t speak. He listened. He never said a word.”

Bruce frowned and pressed. “Was he receiving orders or information?”

Helena pressed her lips together and sat back in her seat. "What do I look like, someone who went through his stuff?"

Bruce's frown deepened. "You can't tell me Spyral never recorded his behavior."

She shrugged. "Not my jurisdiction." She stirred her coffee, and the sound of metal clinking against ceramic was like nails on a chalkboard. "Besides, i'm more concerned about who he was talking to."

She looked at him sharply, expecting an answer. He sat back in his own chair, silent. He didn't know, and he wasn't going to admit it to her.

"Well, fun conversation. Hit me up if you find the kid, he's growing on me," Helena said, getting up and leaving behind her mostly-full coffee.

Bruce was left to stew in his thoughts

* * *

Bruce got back to the manor and began chipping away at his day work. Amnesia-him had kept on top of it surprisingly well. Stephanie loped into his office with a small, flimsy white box in her hands. Her face was flushed with exertion and there was a mark of the Robin mask around her eyes.

“So, Tim says you like chocolate cake. But I think he’s wrong. I think you’re more a coconut and sprinkles kind of guy.”

She put the box on his desk beside his hand. It smelled like bread and sugar.

Stephanie’s eyes narrowed. “You can have it if you tell me where you went.”

“No.”

“I’ll wear you down eventually!”

* * *

Sixty-five days had passed since Dick’s disappearance from Spyral. Bruce had wasted much of that time thinking Dick was dead or still with them while the boy was off doing who knew what.

He wouldn’t have gone off the grid like this, would he?

No, Dick was too aware of his own importance, to Bruce and to everyone else, for that. He would have left a message. But the message wasn’t on the computer. It wasn’t anywhere in his records.

A message like that could come in a business email. It could come in a crop circle. But there were ways and strategies that they had for this sort of scenario, and Bruce couldn’t find a single red flag anywhere.

He didn’t want to contact Barbara about this, so he wasted more days looking through data he knew contained no clues and re-familiarized himself with file systems he hadn’t looked at in years.

“Bruce,” his computer chided in Oracle’s voice while he was running a search. He flinched. “What are you looking for?”

Oracle was very, very good at ferreting out information. She was a trusted ally to him and Dick, and because of that if she knew that Dick was alive it would make working with her very difficult. Bruce had been handling her very carefully to make sure that she didn’t realise that Dick was with Spyral.

Getting help from her was a risk, but she might just have records of comm transmissions that he didn’t have access to.

If Dick had tried to contact him while he had had amnesia, then she might have evidence of it.

“I need any records you have of attempts to contact me via comm in the last three months.”

“I’m going to need more details, otherwise I’m literally going to get a billion results.” the voice modulator made emotions difficult, but Bruce could just about picture how she’d say it if she was in front of him. Warm, curious, a little amused. 

Shunting that aside, Bruce focused on the data. Bruce could narrow it down to the times Dick had been supposed to contact him, and the encryption keys and codes he was using. Without a live connection, they’d just be flags in the system.

Barbara grumbled. “I’ll see what I can do, but I don’t usually keep this stuff. There’s so much noise.”

Batman’s comm bleeped in warning of an incoming message -- the special little bleep that he’d set to Dick’s frequency. This was coming through Dick’s line. Elation gripped him. He had just enough presence of mind to tell Barbara to leave his system.

She wouldn’t, though -- she was a tenacious snoop.

“Why should I?” She said in that annoying, superior tone. Bruce inputted the command to boot her from the system and answered the line. 

“Bruce Wayne,” said an unfamiliar voice. Not Dick. He kept himself calm. It could be an ally. Dick might be injured though, if he couldn’t use his comm himself. 

Oracle’s mask reappeared. “What the  _ fuck _ are you hiding?” He ignored her. It was easier. “And who the hell is on that line?”

Bruce felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. “Where is he.”

“Who? Agent 37?” the voice said with a laugh. “I’m afraid our dear agent is quite dead.”

“Where the hell is this signal coming from. Why the  _ hell _ is it coming from Dick’s-” 

“And Dick Grayson?” Bruce asked as the air filled with Barbara’s furious tirade. 

“ _ What? _ ” Barbara shrieked, and he could just imagine the clawed grip she’d have on the armrests. Why couldn’t she calm down? This information was too important.

“No longer exists. Goodbye, Mr. Wayne.”

The comm disconnected. The normal beep sounded like a laugh. Absolute silence reigned for a moment.

“Bruce?” Barbara whispered, all fight gone. “He’s alive?”

“It doesn’t matter. Trace that location Barbara!”

She let out a hysterical laugh. “Are you kidding me? You used technology you specifically made to lock me out! So none of us could find out!”

“Can you find it?”

“God, what did you  _ do  _ Bruce? You  _ fucking hypocrite- _ ”

That was it. He strode around the computer, grabbed a hammer and smashed the Batcomputer’s main router. It didn’t stop her voice, of course, the system was too advanced for that.

“We could have saved him! He didn’t have to be alone!  _ How could you? _ ” 

For everything but Dick’s life, he had redundancies.


End file.
